


Dream Deferred

by fencer_x



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencer_x/pseuds/fencer_x
Summary: Written for Main Round 1 (theme: "Dreams") for SASO | Haruka and Rin share a quiet moment on a balmy summer night after finally making the National Swim Team, and both make a few long-overdue confessions. Illustrations by tumblr user plaemon and dw user fullofjoy.





	Dream Deferred

“Here; and no complaining. They were out of mineral water, so you’ll have to do with a sports drink.” Rin poked Haru’s shoulder insistently with a bottle of Aquarius, condensation clinging to its label like a second skin. Haru flinched away from the contact, directing a sour glare first at Rin and then at the offending bottle until Rin gave it a little shake. “C’mon, it’s important to stay hydrated and keep your electrolytes up out here. You don’t wanna faint on tomorrow’s hike and then make me have to carry you princess-style back to the lodge, do you?”

“It’s so humid… I feel disgusting,” Haru grumbled, snatching the bottle from Rin’s grip and unscrewing the cap to take a swig. “I want to swim…”

Rin snorted softly, settling down onto the creaking porch alongside Haru and letting his legs dangle over the edge. It was late—well after lights-out, and their only illumination now was the glow from the fat full moon floating above and the screens of their cell phones. “Y’know, I would’ve pegged you for the outdoorsy type. I figured as long as there was water, you were game to go anywhere.”

“Do you see any water here?” Haru bit out, leaning forward to drape his arms over the railing. “I can’t believe you’re taking this so well…”

Rin drew himself up, haughty. “I _love_ the outdoors—there’s nothing better than working up a sweat on a nice long jog or hiking rough terrain. I even climbed Ayers Rock as a kid!”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“It’s this big sandstone in the—”

“That didn’t mean I wanted to learn.” And for that, Rin pinched his arm, smirking at the pained hiss he received in response. Haru’d gotten soft in the past year, stuck in crowded, stinking Tokyo. Not that Sydney had been a hub of rustic charm, admittedly—but at least Rin had made a point of going camping and sight-seeing in other states, taking advantage of his brief furlough down-under. Haru had probably never ridden a line outside his commuter pass.

Haru slapped at a mosquito that had landed on his knuckle, frowning. “…When do we get to swim?”

“We’re gonna be swimming our asses off for the next twenty years,” Rin reminded, leaning to the side to bump their shoulders together. “This week is so we can get to know the people we’ll be sharing that time with.”

At one point, years ago, Haru probably would’ve snapped back that it didn’t matter who he swam with, and that he didn’t care to get to know anyone—possibly adding that knowing Rin was annoyance enough, so why would he want to know anyone else? Now, though, after all they’d been through, Haru knew better—knew that a team meant enjoying swimming _more_.

Haru only returned a noncommittal grunt, crossing his arms before himself and leaning forward onto the railing. He stared out into the darkness of the scrub surrounding their lodge, but Rin knew that he wasn’t looking at the scenery, wasn’t taking in the woodland beauty—he was seeing a totally different sight.

It still felt…just the tiniest bit weird spending so much time with Haru these days. They’d spent more time in each other’s company over the past two weeks than they had in the past two _years_ , and little quirks he’d forgotten—or mildly annoying ones he’d been able to ignore—were suddenly glaring and obvious, demanding his attention.

One year he’d given himself in Australia. One year to train, to compete, to rekindle old connections and forge new ones. Time enough to strike back with newfound confidence and conviction that he wasn’t alone in this journey and regain his pride. But Sydney was just a pit stop, a breather, really, to give Haru enough time to start training himself up _properly_. Rin had been aiming for the Olympics for nearly a decade now; Haru had a _lot_ of catching up to do.

So they’d taken a year—Rin in Australia, Haru in Tokyo—and now they were back again, standing at the starting line together, the same inspiring beat pounding in their heads to ensure that they stayed in step this time. Rin wouldn’t stumble again, and Haru wouldn’t quit. Once they started running, they weren’t going to stop until they crossed the finish line together.

Rin would have to learn to gain inspiration from Haru at his side, instead of out in front—something he was still working on. 

Rin slapped his neck, hoping he’d managed to smush the mosquito Haru had chased away. He hadn’t been lying—he _did_ like the outdoors. But there was a world of difference between hiking to a summit or a hidden waterfall, or swimming a channel to reach a deserted island—and getting bled dry by a swarm of mosquitos on a muggy Tokyo night.

He silently echoed Haru’s sentiment: _I want to swim._

“…Ah.”

“What?”

“…We didn’t finish the milk before we left.” Haru squinted, expression screwing up in distaste. “It’ll be expired by the time we get back.”

“It’ll be fine—it’s not like you left it out to spoil.”

“No, because I’m not you.”

“That was _one time_ ,” Rin reminded pointedly. “And I was using it! I hadn’t finished yet—you just _assumed_ I left it out. A little _trust_ would be appreciated; you’re not the only one of us who can cook.”

Haru rolled his eyes, and Rin made a face at him. Over two weeks now he’d been squatting in Haru’s apartment, and the guy _still_ liked to micromanage Rin’s every move. If Rin had been the type to turn his living quarters into a pigsty like Nagisa, maybe Rin could understand—but he was as much a neat freak as Haru.

But in the end, _he_ was the one asking Haru for a place to crash until he scrounged up enough time to find an apartment of his own—so he owed his erstwhile roommate a bit of leeway.

It was his own fault he’d needed to bunk with someone in the first place, since he’d wanted to stay in Sydney for a last-minute tournament, only making it to Japan just before the National Team Trials started. Between Makoto and Haru, Haru had the smaller place, but the neater one—with a gym located less than a block away. It was nice having a jogging partner in the mornings, now, but they were still working on compromising over breakfast.

The Trials had been fast and furious, though they’d seemed interminable at the time, waiting for preliminary races, and then semi-finals, and then finals—and scoping out swimmers in other strokes between his own and Haru’s races. Rin had entered as many Butterfly and Freestyle events as he had qualifying times for, but Haru—to Rin’s horror—had only signed up for the 100-meter Freestyle.

To his own shame, he’d almost considered dropping out of the race altogether, just to be sure he didn’t nudge Haru out of a spot, when Haru had turned on him, fury in his eyes, and ordered him to swim his ass off, because Haru would _know_ if he was holding back.

The added, “You shouldn’t worry, anyway; my qualifying time beat yours by three-tenths of a second,” had sealed Rin’s determination, and they hadn’t spoken of the matter again—but when Rin touched the wall after that final 15 meters of their race, his first thought had been to look for not his own name on the board, but Haru’s.

He’d tugged off his goggles, gaze flicking across the scoreboard frantically—when an arm had stretched down to him from the poolside as Haru called, “Come on, third-place.” Haru had edged him out of the top two places—by a shamefully wide margin. Before he could even think to congratulate him, Haru had pulled him close, voice soft and threatening, and made him _swear_ to place in his Butterfly heats, or else he’d have to get a hotel room because Haru wouldn’t let him back into the apartment.

Rin snorted inelegantly at the memory, how deadly serious Haru had been about kicking Rin out if he’d failed to make the team, and when Haru directed a confused frown his way, he shrugged. “Just thinkin’ about how badly you wanted me on the team with you. I think I was actually too scared to _not_ make it.”

The confusion melted away, and Haru turned to stare back out into the darkened woods, a faint blush barely visible in the moonlight. “…I just didn’t want to have to deal with another Butterfly swimmer on the relay team.”

“Uh huh.”

“Butterfly swimmers are all moody or annoying or both.”

Rin leaned forward, resting his chin on crossed arms. “And which am I?”

“Definitely both.”

Rin had to laugh at the predictable response; in his youth, he might have been offended, but nowadays…it was familiar. Comfortable. Haru was still Haru, even surrounded by races and time trials and forced interaction with new faces—all things he despised. Tokyo hadn’t changed him, professional swimming hadn’t changed him. It was just a brand new pool, deeper and wider than any he’d ever dipped a toe into. And Haru was going to _dominate_.

He smiled to himself. “…I’m glad.”

“That you’re annoying and moody?”

“That you’re thinking about the relay. Jerk.” He closed his eyes—there was a soft little breeze picking up, cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, and the quiet conversation was starting to lull him into a doze. “I was a little worried you wouldn’t want to.”

“I said before—I only swim free and the relay.”

Rin perked up, an idea forming. “All right—then, if you could have anyone you wanted on your relay team, who would you pick?”

Haru didn’t miss a beat: “Makoto, Rei, and Nagisa.”

Rin chuckled—he should’ve seen that coming. “That’s too many members. Rei and I can’t _both_ swim Butterfly.”

“Who says I want you on my ideal team?”

Rin forced his expression to sour, refusing to give Haru too much pleasure in his reaction. “…Anyway, none of them are on the team now, so you’re out of luck. And just so we’re clear, you’re stuck with me as your Butterfly anchor.” He tapped his chin in thought. “What about—whatshisface, Kirishima? Wasn’t he on your relay team in middle school? We need a Breaststroker…”

Haru stiffened slightly at his side. “…Where did you hear that?”

“Hm? Sousuke mentioned it once. You won with him on the team, didn’t you? He seems kinda intense, but that can be a good thing…” He lifted his brows hopefully. “How about it?”

Several emotions flickered over Haru’s features in the span of a breath, conflict clearly displayed for all to see, and Rin immediately regretted even bringing it up. “Or—I mean, it doesn’t have to be him. He wasn’t even top in his heat.” Bringing up faces from the past—from _that time_ had been a mistake. Of course there would be whole _books_ ’ worth of history for Haru and Kirishima—what had possessed him to even suggest it?

“No,” Haru shook his head, barely moving it. “No—it’s…fine. Ikuya…could be good. We could use him.” He traced the whorls in the wood of the railing. “He’s driven. Like you.”

Had that been the reason for the rainbow of emotion just now? Rin’s drive, his devotion to the win…it wasn’t something that had ever really endeared him to Haru. Maybe it was the same with Kirishima. He tried to soften the blow: “…You never really talk about it, you know. That relay.”

Haru’s head snapped around to face Rin, brows cinching in concern. “…You _want_ me to?” He frowned. “I just…thought you’d…”

“What?” Rin laughed. “That I’d be _jealous_ or something? I’m the one who left, remember? I’m the one who screwed up your swimming ethos and then ran away to the other side of the planet. Even if I _did_ think you joining up with a new team was just to get back at me, I’d have deserved it.” He shook his head. “Nah. You’d finally realized how amazing it felt to be a part of something bigger than just yourself… How could I fault you for that? The relay’s for friends, companions, comrades. You’re never gonna have just _three_ of those.” Something struck him now. “…Do you feel like making a new relay team now is gonna be betraying Iwatobi?” Haru paled, as if he hadn’t considered this at all, and Rin immediately retracted the statement, hands raised defensively. “Cause it’s not, okay? And you know Makoto and Rei and Nagisa would say the same thing.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and then Haru ducked his head, mumbling, “…I do know. I’m not stupid.”

“Well, you’re half right.” He leaned forward onto the rail like Haru, staring out into the darkness and inhaling the sharp, strong scent of wilderness. A breeze picked up, and a few strands of hair fluttered free from the bunch he’d tied at the nape of his neck.

Haru shivered beside him, reaching for the crumpled jacket he’d brought out, then shook it out and pulled it on. The moonlight caught on the matte logo covering the back, and Rin felt his breath catch in his chest, inhaling sharply.

It wasn’t a sight he’d never seen before—but he didn’t think he’d ever quite get over the way it made him feel, seeing Haru draped in those colors, bearing that insignia on his back. Rin had been convinced of his own future for so long that pulling that jacket on had just felt like he’d finally arrived, finally come home. But Haru wearing it was a reminder: that this wasn’t the end, only a beginning. He’d be chasing after that back for years and years to come.

He swallowed a lump of emotion that had lodged in his throat, and his voice came out a bit raspy. “Hey, Haru… If I tell you something…you promise not to give me crap for it?” The look Haru turned on him was a pretty clear ‘no’, but Rin barreled on forward regardless. “Just…I know I’ve never been your best friend—and I haven’t even been a very _good_ friend either, most of the time, so it probably sounds weird, me saying this, but…” He took a breath. “I’m really happy you’re here. Really, really happy.”

Even as he spoke, his lips quirked up in an uncontrolled grin that threatened to trip him up. “There are lots of people I’d love to share this moment with, this next step of my life—and I will, in a way. I’ll let Gou put together a decent diet for me to stick to, and I’ll have Sousuke keep me honest on cardio days at the gym, and Makoto’s got me agreeing to tutor him in English once a week because there’s an exchange student in one of his classes he’s crushing on. But…” And this was the hard part; he hated proving himself the romantic fool everyone teased him for being. “You’re the one who—I mean, my whole life, I’ve wanted to be _here_ , to have _you_ here with me, and now…”

The lump was back, and he couldn’t force it down again. Maybe it was for the best; he was just going to wind up dumping his whole heart into Haru’s lap, and while Haru was being surprisingly understanding—not interrupting with any dull quips—there was only so much he’d tolerate before deeming Rin’s babbling too annoying to stomach any further.

Rin took a breath—a long inhalation and a measured, slow exhale to center himself. He cocked his head just to the side, locking a nervous gaze with Haru’s and raising his brows. “…You know it was never about winning or losing with you, right? I mean I know I make a big deal about it, and I talk a big game, but you know it’s different with you…right?”

“I know,” was the curt response, Haru finally stepping in to stop Rin from vomiting his emotions all over the deck, and he gripped the railing tight, knuckles white. “I know,” he repeated, this time gentler, begging Rin to understand.

He’d made Haru uncomfortable. Rin nodded. “Oh. Well…that’s good. That you know.” It felt like the wind had been sucked from his sails, and he just deflated there on the porch, shoulders slumping. He felt ridiculous; he’d only meant to express how excited he was that Haru was really actually _here_ , that they’d made it—together. But every time he got started on that tangent, it felt like he’d poked a hole in a dam and the weight of everything _more_ that he felt wanted to come rushing through.

“It’d be hard to miss it; you’ve never been very subtle about it.” The gentle teasing was comforting, like Haru was trying to ease them back into familiar territory, and Rin thinned his lips in pouting irritation.

“I thought you weren’t gonna give me any grief?”

“I never said that—and I’m not, besides. I’m only pointing out the truth. Unless you’d like to defend yourself?”

Rin didn’t even want to try—it would be a losing battle, they both well new, so he ignored the bait and let the matter drop. A quick glance down at his watch made him wince—it was well past lights-out, and they had an early day waiting for them in the morning. “We should head to bed,” he reminded, shifting in place to rise.

A hand on his arm stopped him, though, and before he could ask what the matter was, Haru began speaking in a hushed, stilted tone, every word squeezed out like water from a stone. “I used to think…I used to think I only ever wanted to be normal. That was my dream: to stay in one place, to never be bothered, to never be _surprised_.” Haru’s fingers tightened slightly, likely to leave fading marks later. “I didn’t want anything to ever change or be different or be new—but right now, I think I’m…” He took a breath, and then rushed to get the rest out, “—the happiest I’ve ever been, and I feel like I can still be even _happier_. Like there’s still more to come.”

Rin felt his chest clench, the tightness familiar now, because that was what Haru did to him in moments like this, when he totally threw Rin off his game and opened up like a tight-lipped oyster to give Rin a glimpse of the pearl inside.

“I’ve never felt that way before, and—I know you’re the reason for that. I wouldn’t have found my dream without you. I wouldn’t _be here_ without you. I wouldn’t be this happy…without you.” He looked exhausted, clearly unaccustomed to being this open about his feelings, and his head hung low, as if ashamed of his own words—until he punctuated his confession with, “And I realized I never really thanked you for all of that.”

The hand on Rin’s arm slid up to loop around his shoulder, and Haru’s free arm wrapped around Rin to draw him into a close, tight hug, squeezing the life from him as Haru poured every complex, complicated emotion he was dealing with just now into that single gesture. Too caught off-guard to respond himself, Rin just soaked in the warmth and strength of Haru’s hug, the very best medicine for someone as tactile as he. Muffled, mumbled _thank you_ s were poured into his shoulder, soaking the fabric, and Rin would never wash this shirt again.

Too soon, though, Haru released his hold, practically shoving Rin away and slipping back into his shell as he carefully tucked away the bits of himself he’d put on display. Rin could say any number of things, just now, that would dictate how not only the rest of this retreat would go, but how their _lives_ would go. He could tease Haru for the uncharacteristic display of emotion, could boast _It’s about damn time you thanked me!_ ; he could even just not say anything, and things would continue on as normal, narry a ripple or wave to be seen. Just like Haru had always wanted things to stay.

But Haru didn’t _really_ want things staying the same—he wanted excitement and change and new, bright futures that he _had_ to embrace because Rin thrust them upon him. He didn’t want to be led or cajoled, he wanted someone behind him, shoving him forward. And that was right where Rin liked to be.

He swallowed thickly, fingers stretching out over the rough wooden porch planks until they just brushed the tips of Haru’s. That little bit of contact helped center him, like his own personal charging station. Haru always seemed to have energy to spare, and Rin found himself seeking some point of connection whenever possible—a high-five, an arm looped over a shoulder, a sure grip hauling him up from the pool. Haru still frowned whenever he did things like this—but he didn’t pull away, and that spoke volumes.

_“You know it’s different with you…right?”_

Haru’s fingers shifted a hair, curling through Rin’s. Maybe it was different for Haru, too.


End file.
